


Drawing Lines

by GoddessofBirth



Series: Tag You're It [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, M/M, Not a friendship fic, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessofBirth/pseuds/GoddessofBirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has drawn a line in the sand; Stiles remakes it in cement.  Tag to episode 2 x 03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawing Lines

Stiles is holding an ice pack to his temple when he hears the creak on his window sill. He whips around without really looking and says “Get the fuck out, Derek,” bluntly, and without any room for compromise. He's done. He's really, really done. He'd told Scott they should step back, and all of this has only confirmed it. Let Derek lead his pack to hell in a hand basket. It was his choice.

 

Derek is balanced on the window sill, right at the precipice of entering the room. 'Stiles - '

 

'No, really. Out. Or I will call my dad. And I'll tell him exactly what happened here.' He gestures to the knot standing stark on his temple, the small cut sliced over it.

 

Derek doesn't come in, but he doesn't leave, either, just stays perched on the window ledge. 'You need to understand - '

 

Stiles laughs. Flat out _laughs,_ a barking, bitter sound, reminiscent of the time right after his mother died, when instead of avoiding them, he went out looking for fights, and nine times out of ten, won them. 'I understand. I really, really do. We didn't want to play your game, and so you don't need us anymore. And I'm actually fine with that. You? Your little leather clad wolf gang? Can go get yourselves killed for all I care. But you know what, dude? I've almost died for you...how many times? Two? Three? And the best you can do is have your pack dump me in a trash can? You can go to hell.'

 

Derek doesn't drop his eyes, or look ashamed – and based on what he's seen the last few days, Stiles doesn't expect it – but his nostrils flare wide. 'Erica went a little...overboard. I just told her to keep you from the rink, not to hurt you. The whole point was to _keep_ you from getting hurt. I dealt with her.'

 

Stiles doesn't even want to think what that might consist of, and he wonders if Derek has any clue how much he's starting to remind him of Peter. Stiles skitters away from that thought, because he really can't handle the sharp stab of fear it carries, and takes refuge in sarcasm.

 

'Yeah, well, maybe she was just pissed I didn't want to stare at her tits.'

 

Derek doesn't answer verbally, but shifts, makes a tiny shrugging motion, and Stiles blinks rapidly as the reality of what he's saying sinks in.

 

'Seriously? She tried to take my head off because I wasn't _leering_ enough? Wow. Bang up job you've done on your pack, Derek, taking kids who were actually kind of nice and turning them into world class douchebags. Just. Like. YOU.' From what Scott has told him, the Isaac from the police station, the Isaac cowering in Derek's house, is completely gone. Stiles wants his freaking Kindle back. And his comic books.

 

Derek is making a low growling sound, which lets Stiles know he's probably pushed him too far, but for once – twice, three times? - Stiles doesn't care, just makes a dismissive flicking motion with his wrist. 'Truth hurts, doesn't it?'

 

'You might not get it right now, but I protected you tonight, Stiles.'

 

'Right...right. Because you were staging the Ultimate Fighting Championship in the ice rink. Where you let that pack you care so much about get their asses kicked, while you watched and then beat the crap out of my best friend.' His eyes drop to the bloody pile of clothes Scott had left on his floor, so he wouldn't have to try to explain the mess to his mother.

 

Derek shrugs larger this time. 'They needed to learn they aren't invincible, and I needed to see what Scott could do. I kept it contained; no one was hurt permanently.'

 

'Physically, you mean.' Stiles says quietly. Derek jerks, and for a second Stiles thinks he's gotten through that thick, wolfy skull of his. His next words, though, just confirm how different this Derek has become from his Dere...from  _previous_ Derek.

 

'I know what I'm doing, Stiles. Just because you're too stupid to get it, doesn't mean I don't. My pack is fine. And Scott will be fine once he joins us. And he  _will_ join us.' He squints hard at the knot on Stiles' head. 'Erica won't touch you again.'

 

He's ducking back out the window when Stiles says his name. He looks over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised.

 

'Derek,' Stiles says again. 'The Argents are going to kill you. You understand that, right? You're giving them all the excuses they need. They're going to kill you, and they're going to kill Erica and Boyd and Isaac. The only one of you that's going to survive this is Scott, and that's because Allison and I aren't going to let it happen to him.'

 

Derek freezes and flips back around, muscles tense and face furious. 'What do you know? What have they done?'

 

Stiles shakes his head. 'Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. We're not on the same side anymore.'

 

Derek leaps from the sill into the room, and Stiles has no trouble reading the violent intention in his movements. He shouts at the top of his lungs.

 

' _Daaaaaaaad_ !' 

 

Derek is back out into the night before the scream is even finished, and by the time Stiles' father thunders into the room, Stiles is in his bed, babbling about a nightmare that has made him wake up terrified.


End file.
